


River Horses

by ShadowEtienne



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Folklore, Gen, Rohan, Terrifying Tolkien Week 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowEtienne/pseuds/ShadowEtienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old wives tales remind the children of Rohan that not all horses are safe to ride, and they should be careful when meeting strange creatures by the rivers.  Sometimes though, terrifying creatures can be useful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	River Horses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_dragongirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dragongirl/gifts).



> This is my first venture into writing in the Tolkien Fandom, and I am really excited to begin producing more works and finding my feet with writing in this universe. Many thanks to my sister for her excellent and helpful beta of this story.

When they finished with their morning chores, the children of the small village in the Eastfold, near a bend in the river, often gathered at Hulda's house in the winter's chill. The Entwash rushed by the vilage, too cold to play in during the winter months. Inside the old woman's home was always warm, a small fire crackling on the hearth, and the scents of soup and fresh baking filling the air. There were often fresh biscuits for the children when they arrived, but they would have all gathered there even without the treats, for Hulda told the best stories.

A storm had blown over the night before, and it was the first time in several days that the children from the outer village had managed to reach Hulda's home at the center. Her nearest neighbors had braved the weather to make sure that she was well, since she lived alone, having outlived all of her nearest kin; but she was strong and hale as ever, home snug against the first major storm of the season.

That day, she had biscuits and a small jar of fresh honey that she passed around to all of the pleased children. None of them had gotten such a treat in many weeks, since the harvest that year had been more meager than hoped. No one entirely knew where Hulda found her honey, but it was always the best in the village. However, no one resented her secret, especially since she readily shared her bounty with her neighbors and many friends.  
After they had eaten their biscuits, the children gathered on the cushions and reeds about the fire, sitting near the feet of Hulda's rocking chair. She smiled down at them, expression warming her stern face framed by waves of white hair pulled back into a long braid. At last, she began her tale, looking carefully at all of the expectant faces of the children, "Have I told any of you tales of the River Horses?"

The children all shook their heads. Old Hulda had never been known to repeat a story, but others often passed her stories along, and perhaps, someday, one of the children would recognize her stories from ones that she had told their parents or grandparents many years before. She nodded, clearly pleased and began to speak: 

"Long ago, when our people lived far to the north in the vales of the River Anduin, and first began to raise great herds of horses, at times, young men and women searching for horses among the many river glades would never return. For many a long year, no one could learn what took the brave tamers of wild horses, though only certain rivers and streams seemed to hold the danger."

"Once, a young boy and his even younger sister were walking by a stream that bubbled quickly down to the River Anduin near their family farm. They were returning from helping their aunt in the neighboring village after the loss of her husband and son when they saw a sleek, grey horse, standing tall and elegant by the water's edge, a soft bridle around its neck, and no rider in sight. The children's eyes went wide, and they rushed happily to meet the horse thinking surely it was a sign of a visitor. As they neared the horse it remained calm, but they saw that its mane was ragged and falling from its once well made braids. Tangled in it were many fronds of river grass like the ones that the horse had been grazing upon when they approached. It did not seem to be shod, and there was no sign of a saddle or blanket anywhere near the horse."

She paused, surveying her young charges, noting them nodding about the qualities of such a horse, before continuing, "Yes, it sounds like a fine horse, does it not my dears? One that you would want to bring home if you chanced upon it? That is certainly what the brother and sister thought. The boy, the elder and surer of the two, was so bold as to reach for the horse's mane, starting to loosen the weeds from where they had become tangled, and he spoke to the horse as he worked. 'Fair horse, who left you here with only a bridle? It must be hard to eat with it always on you.' But when he reached for the buckles of the bridle, the horse shied away, clearly nervous. As soon as his hands returned to combing free the horse's mane, it settled again. After he had loosened most of the weeds that he could reach while his sister watched, the horse turned sideways to the boy, nudging him over to a low stump, just high enough to serve as a mounting block."

"The boy was startled, especially since the horse had seemed so shy of having its tack touched, but enamored by the grace and gentleness of the horse, he scrambled up onto the stump, and then with a firm grip on the horse's mane onto its back. The horse's gait was comfortable and gentle as it paraded him around the small glade, and he called out to his sister, 'Look Fredda, look! Isn't this this the fairest horse you have ever seen?' His sister nodded, but she was more cautious than her brother and rightly so. When the horse approached her, her brother, giddy with the excitement of riding upon a full grown horse with no tack to aid him, said to her, 'Ride with me and we can bring the horse home to Mama and Papa. They will be glad for another such noble mount, especially one with such a gentle and smooth gait.' But his sister hesitated."

"As Fredda stared up at the horse, uncertain, the horse began to become agitated, but at last, Fredda said to her brother, 'No, Orlaf, I will walk beside, for I do not want to overburden a fair horse that has lost all its tack.' Seeing the wisdom in her statement, her brother nodded, and the two siblings set off towards home, the brother on the horses back, and the sister walking beside the fine grey horse with her hand resting gently on its neck. At first, as they walked, she patted the horse's neck from time to time, but each time her hand crept too near the bridle, the horse would shy, and her brother would scold her. Eventually, she let her hand settle."

Hulda paused then, looking over the hushed children gathered around her, and in a slightly hushed voice, she carried on, "But as they walked further and further from the glade where they had met the horse, little Fredda, who had been wise enough to be unsure of the horse, felt her hand beginning to stick to the horse's neck. She tried to pull away, but her hand was stuck fast. At first, she thought the long untended horse must have some sap in its coat and tried quietly to loosen her hand. Looking up at her brother, quieter than usual above her, she asked in an uncertain piping voice, 'Orlaf, Orlaf, are you asleep?' He seemed half asleep when he answered, 'Of course not, but I am tired." For a bit longer, she returned to walking calmly, but at each bend in the river, she noticed they moved closer and closer to the bank, and she began to worry about falling in, horse and all. When she looked up to ask her brother what to do, her brother seemed to have nearly fallen into sleep. She called out his name, but did not truly respond to her, just groaning when she spoke."

"Only then did little Fredda try desperately to pull away from the horse, whose initially fine coat seemed by the minute to be becoming greener and scalier and stickier. They were still far from home, and there was no one nearby to hear her cries of increasing terror as, step by step, the horse seemed to veer closer to the river, paying no mind to her frantic pleas and cries for help. At last though, it began to pick up speed, and poor little Fredda was being pulled along, feet nearly flying out from under her as the pace became to great for her to keep up with."  
She paused long, and many of the children at her feet let out little gasps of worry, but she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips before continuing.

"Our little Fredda was a resourceful child though, and while she was terrified of what their beautiful horse had become, she remembered that the horse had not wanted her brother to touch its soft leather bridle, unchanged by the horses strange transformation. With strength born of terror, Fredda lunged for the horse's head, and by good fortune managed to clasp her hand around the flapping rein near the horse's neck. And as if by magic, the horse stopped, nearly flinging her forward as her hand came loose. Her brother too flew forward against the horse's neck, suddenly shaking himself from his stupor."

"Terrified, her brother slid down of the now green and scaled horse's back, and stared at his sister's hand upon the bridle of the horse. His voice wavered as he said, 'L-let it go little sister, now that we are free.' But she was resolute now, having captured the beast, for with her hand upon the bridle, holding firmly, the strange horse no longer fought or pulled towards the river. She said in return, 'No big brother, we should bring our prize home to Mama and Papa, for while this is a strange horse, it has great power.' For the rest of the long walk home, Orlaf shook as he walked, staying to the far side of his sister from the strange horse creature she walked beside, prepared to grab hold of his sister if the beast attempted to run off again. The horse walked slowly though, head lowered and pace steady. Not once did it do anything other than what Fredda guided it to do with the reins she still clutched tightly."

"When they at last reached their family farm, their mother and father, and all of their neighbors gathered to watch the two children approach with the strange scaled horse. The elder of the village came forth to meet them, eyes wide from awe mingled with fear. He looked at little Fredda, her hands firmly on the reigns of the strange horse and asked her to tell him of what had happened. When she had finished recounting the tale of their encounter with the horse, the wise old man told her, 

'Take off this horse's bridle, and we will keep it in a safe place, for this is one of the River Horses that my mother's mother used to tell us of. You have saved us, little one, from the very creature that must have devoured your uncle and cousin. In return for what it has taken from us, we shall use the service of this creature.' Little Fredda did as he said, and when she removed the bridle from the horse's head, it returned in appearance to the sleek grey horse that they had first encountered. When Orlaf saw the horse returned to its first form, he turned away from the gathering and returned quietly to his home, ashamed that his younger sister had outdone him. Little Fredda gave the bridle to the elder, and he told those gathered there, 'I will keep this in a safe and secret place, for if the bridle is ever returned to the River Horse's neck, the creature will be released from its binding when the last buckle is fastened.' For many long years, the bridle was kept safe, and the River Horse worked for the people of their little village."

The children laughed a bit, relieved that the story seemed to end well for the children with another fair horse for their people. But Hurla held up a quieting finger and said, "There is more though."

"Little Fredda's brother, Orlaf, had not been left untouched by his experience. For many years, he stayed far from the sleek grey horse, docile at the hands of all who worked with it, in fear of the memory of when the horse had caught him, but in the back of his mind was a growing thought, for he could not forget that day. At last, one day, when he had finally reached the age where he became a man, he snuck the bridle from its safe hiding place in the middle of the night. For he had long wanted the fair horse to be his or no one's. He was still ashamed of his defeat by the horse."

"Carefully, so as not to raise the notice of the people of his little village, he crept to the paddocks where the horses slept and found the sleek grey horse that he had not been near in many years. The horse shifted restlessly as he fitted the bridle about its head, but when the last buckle was fastened, the horse's eyes flew open, and quickly, its fine grey coat turned to murky green scales. Orlaf began to shake, but with his hand still firmly on the bridle, he pulled himself up onto the back of the horse."

"As soon as he did, to Orlaf's great surprise, the River Horse took off, galloping across the paddock and leaping the fence, for Orlaf had not heard the elder's warning that once the bridle was returned, the River Horse would be set free. It raced straight to the little river on the edges of the town, and when it reached the ledge, dove straight into the rushing depths, with Orlaf still upon its back, and a great crack of thunder echoed over the entire village. Then, as if summoned by the thunder, a strong, steady rain began to fall."

"The next morning, the people of the town found that the horse and young man had disappeared in the night, and they began at once to search desperately for them, even in the storm that had brewed from nowhere in the night. It took many days for anyone to remember the strange bridle that the horse had once worn, but at last Fredda remembered and looked for the spot where the elder had hidden the bridle many years before. When she realized that it had vanished, she took her own horse from the paddock and rushed to the glade where once she and her brother had found the River Horse."

The smallest child piped up in a worried voice, "Oh Gramma Hurla, did she find him?"

Hurla nodded solemnly, "Indeed she did. At first, when she reached the glade, Fredda thought that there was nothing there and that her guess had been wrong, but then, she noticed a form down among the river grasses, like the ones that she had once seen tangled in the strange horse's mane. As she rushed to the water's edge, she began to make out the form of young man, much the age and height of her brother. But when she fell to her knees by the form lying among the plants, she saw that her brother's form, while recognizable, had been gnawed upon by many teeth, for the River Horse had made Orlaf its first free meal in many years."

There were gasps from the children at her feet, and Hurla continued, "The brave Fredda dragged her brother's body fully on to shore and wrapped him in her horse's blanket, lifting him onto the back of her horse. Slowly her hand tangled in her horse's reigns, she walked back towards their little town. When she was nearly halfway there, a dark green, scaled horse lept from the river and stood in her path, stomping at the ground angrily, but the brave Fredda stood her ground. She drew the belt knife from her belt and held it towards the creature, 'I defeated you once River Horse, when I was only a wee child, and if I must, I will defeat you again, but I ask instead that you step aside. For many years, you ate our children and our tamers of horses, and for many years, we used you to pull our plows. You have served off your debt to us, begone and we will bother you no further.' Fredda waited for many long breaths while the River Horse stared at her, considering, but at last, the creature lept back into the water, and was never seen by any in that village again."

"Fredda brought her brother back to the village, and he was buried along with his forefathers; but restless, she traveled among the groups of her people, warning them to watch out for the River Horses. In her years of wandering, she met many other River Horses by the banks of streams, but never again did she take hold of the bridle of one of the creatures that had killed her brother. Remember, not all fair horses are good for taming, and if you meet a fine horse wearing a bridle by the river, leave it be."

At last the story ended, and the children shook themselves free from their wonder at Hurla's story. One of the children, a more sensible sort than most her age, asked, "But Gramma Hurla, are River Horses real?"

The old wise woman looked at him, carefully considering, and replied, "Some say now that they are just old wives tales, made to frighten little children, but most such tales have at least a grain of truth. I would be careful with any strange horse found by rivers either way."


End file.
